


Polaris

by Medeafic



Series: Supernova [4]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Biting, Blow Job, M/M, Masturbation, Pain, Sadomasochism, heaving bruising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Zach spend some time in Central Park, go to a premiere and party, and then have another heavy scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaris

**Author's Note:**

> This is a somewhat more intense chapter. Please don't read it if you think any of the warnings might trigger you.

Chris wakes up the next morning with Zach’s nose tucked firmly between his neck and the pillow, and Zach’s leg crooked heavily over his hips. He smiles with contentment. When they were together in LA he sometimes complained about Zach’s effusive sleeping style. But as soon as Zach left for New York, Chris found himself desperate to feel cramped in the bed again.

He shrugs a little and feels Zach move. Turning his head, he looks straight into sleepy brown eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

They both smile lazy smiles, sharing the moment.

“Guess what?” Chris says, shifting to his side under Zach’s leg. Zach does some weird yoga bendy thing with his leg around Chris’s waist to pull him even closer.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too. Despite the morning breath.”

“And,” Chris breezes on, “I’m only available for a limited time.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Rumor _also_ has it that I like it when my boyfriend leaves marks all over me.”

“Mmm.”

“Well?”

“Tonight. After the premiere.”

Chris rolls back and stretches energetically. “Do I get a morning –” _Why, yes. Yes I do_ , Chris thinks, as Zach rolls on top of him.

“How’s your asshole doing?” he asks.

“You know, where I come from it’s not considered polite to bluntly inquire about the state of someone’s asshole. At least not until after they’ve had their first coffee of the day.”

Zach smirks. “Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities. But I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“For more sex? Hell yes.”

“No, that’s not the plan. So tell me, how’s your precious rosebud doing?”

Chris snorts, pushes at Zach. “Get off me and I’ll go check.” He slides out of bed and stretches again, heads to the bathroom.

“And put some of that cream on it!” Zach calls after him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chris says under his breath.

“So why _was_ there no fucking this morning?” Chris asks later, as he packs a smaller bag to take to Zach’s apartment.

“I want to send you under next time. But you don’t function at full capacity for a while after that, and we have a big day ahead of us with a packed itinerary. So you’ll just have to wait.” Zach is sitting on the bed, playing with his phone.

Chris smiles to himself. He loves the offhand way Zach says things like that. He hasn’t been in subspace for so long, he’s almost forgotten about it. Almost. “What if I can’t do it anymore?” he says, suddenly anxious.

“That seems unlikely,” Zach says. “Remember to take a few extra t-shirts.” Chris dutifully shoves in two more tees. “Oh, hey – you never told me. How’d it go with your friend the other night?”

“My friend?” Chris frowns. He turns around, ostensibly to grab a pair of socks, but mostly so that Zach can’t see his face.

“You know. The one who came over. You said you were feeling like less of a –”

“Oh, right,” Chris interrupts. “Yeah. Dave.” He scrunches the socks in his hand like a stress ball. He’s so tired of feeling humiliated and unwanted. Maybe, for now, he can just leave all that behind in LA. “It went well,” he says, hating himself a little even as the words come out. “We had fun.”

“Wow,” Zach says. That’s when Chris realizes that Zach can see his face in the enormous mirror on the opposite wall. They lock eyes for a moment that drags on too long, and then Chris drops his gaze. He can’t stand the look of disappointment on Zach’s face any longer. “Christopher. You –”

“I’m sorry,” Chris mutters. “I’m sorry, I…He canceled, okay? I just didn’t want to…”

He continues packing in silence, and tries not to look at Zach.

“You know,” Zach says after a while, “if you don’t _want_ to have an Honesty Policy, we don’t have to –”

“I want the Honesty Policy,” Chris says desperately, shoving everything deeper into the bag. “I do. I just – forgot.”

“Forgot?”

“I’m _sorry_.”

“You didn’t _forget_. You lied. On purpose.”

“I _said_ I was sorry,” Chris snaps.

“I’d believe you more if you actually took responsibility for –”

Chris turns around sharply. “ _Fine_. I lied. I’m tired of people treating me like shit and letting me down, and I lied to protect myself. I don’t need _you_ feeling sorry for me on top of everything else.”

Zach gets off the bed slowly and comes over to him, puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry your friends suck,” he says. “And I think you should get new ones. But I promise: I’m not feeling sorry for you. Okay?”

“Whatever.”

Zach pulls him into a one-sided hug. Chris can’t reciprocate, not yet. He feels terrible. “Please don’t lie to me again,” Zach says softly. “I hate being lied to.”

“I’m sor–”

“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it.”

Chris goes back to packing, and Zach goes back to his phone.

  
***

  
After a brief but vigorous debate with himself over whether to get the subway or a cab, Zach decides a cab will probably be better, if only to avoid stares. “I don’t think your handlers would like it if we’re _too_ out there,” he says to Chris. Chris wants to protest at Zach’s terminology – _handlers_? – but he still feels bad about lying, and just nods.

“Central Park first,” Zach says, drumming his fingers impatiently on the seat between them in the taxi. Chris wants to hold his hand, but refrains. “After that, we’ll head home before the premiere. Then there’s the after-party. And then –”

He looks at Chris with a slow smile and Chris, despite his heavy heart, smiles back. Feels Zach brush his fingers over the back of his hand.

“You forgive so easily,” Chris says before he can stop himself.

Zach raises his eyebrows. “You’re still hung up on that?”

“Uh, yeah. It was only twenty minutes ago, Zach.”

“It’s very easy to forgive you, Christopher,” he murmurs, looking out the window. He looks back, frowning. “Aren’t you going to get too hot in that cardigan?”

Chris shrugs. “Nah. It’s not that warm. Besides…” He pulls up his sleeve. There are bruises all around his wrist.

“Oh,” Zach says. “Right. I should’ve brought a bandanna or something for you.” He looks guilty, and Chris risks grabbing his hand. It’s not like the cab driver has eyes in the back of his head, after all.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You know it’s fine.”

Central Park is…Central Park. Chris has been there before, but indulges Zach’s determination to show him his favorite places, which seem after a while to occur every couple of feet. They take turns carrying Chris’s overnight bag. Privately, Chris doesn’t really see what all the fuss is about, but if it makes Zach happy, it makes Chris happy.

Eventually they stop and lie down in the grass. The sun is weakly warm, although Zach insists he’s halfway hot. But Chris is glad for his cardigan, comfy and woolly and growing toasty in the sunshine. There are too many people around for Chris to do what he wants to do, which is to kiss Zach in the grass until everything else fades away.

“We should’ve brought a picnic,” Chris says. “Zach?”

“Mm?” Zach has his hat tipped slightly forward over his sunglasses and his hands behind his head.

“Are there any punishments for breaking the rules?”

“No. That would defeat the purpose.”

“Oh.” Chris scratches his nose. “I don’t get it.”

“We don’t follow the rules because we’re afraid of the consequences if we don’t. We follow them because we want to. Because we _choose_ to.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Out with it.”

“I feel bad. Still. Like I want to make reparation.”

Zach sighs. “I can’t really help you with that, Pine. You just have to work through it. But I’m sorry you feel bad. _I_ don’t feel bad, if that helps.”

“Not really, no.”

“I could punch you in the face. How about that?”

Chris laughs. “Yeah, that actually might make me feel a little better. But you would never do something like that,” he says. The image of Zach taking a swing at _anyone_ is so incongruent, he can barely picture it.

Zach rolls over on to his stomach and props his face on his folded hands. “You are so fucking strange,” he says. “Maybe you really _are_ crazy. Everything I do to you, but you don’t think I could hit you?”

Chris strokes one finger gently down his wrist. “Nope.”

Zach’s phone buzzes and he digs it out of his pocket to check it. Chris watches his mouth turn up at one corner.

“You’re looking very pleased with yourself. Who is it?”

“A surprise. For you.” He texts something back and puts the phone away.

“So where is it?”

“Just wait a minute.” Chris is about to ask again when he hears a shout across the clearing. He sits bolt upright.

“Is that –”

“Yeah.” Zach grins.

John Cho is jogging across the grass towards them. Another man is walking behind him, slowly, juggling bags and bottles. “Little help?” he calls. Zach pushes himself up from the ground and goes to lend assistance.

“ _Patrick_?” Chris says, his mouth dropping open. He hasn’t seen Patrick Adams for weeks. Patrick is one of Chris’s few straight guy friends in LA who maintained contact, but he’s been traveling a lot lately. Chris has never been so happy to see him in his whole life.

“Hey, right here?” John says, waving a hand in front of his face. Chris jumps up to hug him.

“You _motherfucker_!  The hell are you doing here?” He can’t stop grinning.

“Official Tribeca Film Festival Judge, unlike you plebs,” John shrugs. “Also, Zach made me. He has pictures of my indiscretions.” He grins. “You’re getting old, Captain,” he says. “Maybe look into some botox?”

“Fuck you,” Chris laughs. He turns to the approaching figures. Zach is helping to carry the load. “Patrick? You didn’t tell me you were coming to New York!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t tell me when you started dating a goddamn hipster, so we’re even. Zach, that is the fucking ugliest hat I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen Chris’s newsboy collection. I even _wore_ one once, just to prove to him how ridiculous it looked.” Chris hugs Patrick, slapping him too hard on the back and making him flinch. “Okay, okay, careful, you’re gonna squash the good brie, and Zach’ll kill us…”

“And a _picnic_?” Chris says, looking at the bags of food. Zach tries to look modest and fails spectacularly.

“Best boyfriend in the northern hemisphere, that’s what he tells me,” John says. “And everyone else who will listen.”

Patrick starts emptying the bags, chattering. Chris sits down again to help, his heart bursting. It’s ridiculous: just a couple of close friends who actually want to spend time with him, good food, a cozy cardigan, and the smell of grass in the air – and suddenly he feels totally, completely loved by the entire Universe. When Zach sits down next to him and gives him a brief squeeze on the shoulder, this is it, he realizes: this is a perfect moment.

“Thanks,” he says to Zach quietly, watching John and Patrick bicker over whether the baguette or crackers will be better for the brie.

“It’s no problem, man,” Zach says. But Chris knows that what he really means is, _I love you_.

When the food is gone, and they tire of throwing a lopsided Frisbee, and John has had to leave for some official meet-up with his fellow jurors, Patrick starts fiddling around with his iPhone. “So Q-man, did you check out my photography website?”

Zach nods. “Lots of cool stuff. You need to do me some time. That’d be fun.”

“Hey, no time like the present,” Patrick says, bouncing up on his knees. “You too, Pine. Say cheese.” Before Chris can register what’s happening, he’s lining up a camera shot. Chris raises an arm to dissuade him.

“Actually, man –”

Too late. The camera snaps.

“He doesn’t like being photographed,” Zach says.

“Really? You sure spend a lot of time in the tabloids for someone who doesn’t like getting their picture taken,” Patrick teases. “See, I could have _sworn_ you were dating–”

“Do me now,” Zach says. “Make sure you get my hat in. I wore it especially for you.”

“So hey, I hear you’re hoping to come back to theater?” Patrick asks Chris, after he puts away his phone. “ _Inishmore_ , right?”

“I hope so.” Chris tries to smile, but from the expressions around him, it’s more of a spasm.

“Are you okay?” Zach asks. “Are you tired again?”

“Yeah,” Chris says. “Tired.”

“I should get going anyway,” Patrick says. “It’s been great, Pine. I missed you, man – we need to catch up under some _real_ sunshine in LA. I’ll be staying put for a while, so call me when you get back.” He pulls Chris into a hug goodbye, and Chris can manage a genuine smile this time. He hasn’t felt so _himself_ for a long time. “I’ll tweet you a copy of the pictures,” Patrick says to Zach. “Chris looks good. You look like a serial killer. It’s a fantastic juxtaposition!”

“Thanks,” Zach replies acerbically.

Patrick throws back his head and laughs. “Sorry, man. Must be Mercury in retrograde, you know?”

  
***

  
“Thank you for that,” Chris says in the cab over to Zach’s apartment. “I really, yeah. Thank you.” He squeezes Zach’s fingers. “I needed that. My _God_ , did I need that.” Zach grins so wide that Chris thinks his cheeks must be aching.

“Hey, do you want to bail on tonight?” Zach asks. “Because we totally can, if you’re tired. We can just stay home if you like.” He pulls out his phone. “I’ll get my agent to cancel.”

“No,” Chris says, putting his hand gently over Zach’s flying fingers. “No, we’ll go. I’ll rest up this afternoon. And I know you like parties.”

Zach frowns. “Don’t do it just for my benefit.”

“I’m not, I promise.” Zach gives him a Look. “I _promise_. And if I want to leave, I’ll drag you away and scream about appropriate self-interest. Okay?”

Zach is placated. By the time the cab reaches his apartment, though, he’s full of nerves and excitement, and Chris finds it endearing.

“Do you like it?” Zach asks when they get inside, and he’s obviously putting on his best nonchalant tone. Chris turns to look around the apartment again, so that Zach won’t think he’s laughing at him.

“It’s nice, yeah.” What else is he going to say? An apartment is an apartment. Chris is no interior decorator. Sure, it’s nicer than most. “It’s very you,” he says, finding a sincere comment. The whole place smells like Zach, and Chris didn’t realize until right now how much he misses the way Zach smells. There are photos all over the tables and walls of Zach and his friends. Chris features prominently.

“I wanted you to like it,” Zach says happily, and Chris turns back to him.

“Well, I like it. A lot.”

“I want to fuck you in every room.”

Chris feels his brain stop, click gears, go again. “Okay.” He pulls up his shirt to unbutton his jeans.

“Not _now_ ,” Zach says with a chuckle, putting his hand over Chris’s. “And don’t look so disappointed. We have plenty of time for that kind of thing. But you should rest now. And _don’t_ bitch at me or tell me I’m not the boss of you,” he adds, as Chris opens his mouth. “Which, by the way: very playground of you. You’re lying down and that’s that.”

Chris makes a face at him. “Fine, Boss Man. But you have to lie down with me too.”

They pull off their shoes and flop on the bed. Chris really is tired again, and Zach’s bed is far too comfortable.

“What was that stuff about Mercury?” he asks sleepily.

“Nothing, really.” Zach shifts closer to him and puts an arm over him. “Communication goes awry when Mercury is in retrograde. It’s an astrology thing.”

Chris makes sure Zach’s eyes are closed before rolling his own. “You don’t believe in that crap, though, do you? Astrology?”

Zach opens his eyes to look at him, amused and speculative. “I think that the stars have a lot of meaning to people,” he says. “And the stories we tell about them have been passed down for millennia. Anything with that kind of staying power must have _some_ truths in it.”

“That’s different from believing that the stars can tell you your future,” Chris points out.

“They can tell you where you are right now, though. Don’t you remember?”

Chris is pretty sure he looks blank.

“What place is this, what region, what tract of the earth? Where am I? Beneath the sun’s rising, or beneath the turning point of the icy Bear?”

“Oh. Right. Seneca.”

“Am I still your Icy Bear, Christopher?” Zach asks, smiling.

“Yes, _if_ you promise not to refer to yourself as such in third pers–”

“The Icy Bear is pleased to hear that.”

“Zach, come _on_. Don’t start that again. It was fucking insufferable.” But Chris has to smile back.

“Go to sleep,” Zach says softly, squeezing up as close as he can.

  
***

  
When he wakes up, Chris feels like a million bucks. He looks out Zach’s windows at the view, fading into darkness, while Zach makes chai for them both, and he has to agree – it _is_ a nice neighborhood. He’s feeling much more kindly disposed towards New York, now that he gets to share the city with Zach. Or Zach with the city. Either way – he’s feeling good.

“You’re much better at faking chai enjoyment now,” Zach compliments him, after he’s finished the tea.

“I’ve been practicing. I figured I should probably start drinking it since I was doing the yoga too.”

Zach nods. “Yeah, you need to get back to that tomorrow. Although,” he pauses thoughtfully. “Maybe you won’t feel like it, after tonight. And that would be okay. You can take a few days off.”

“I get a free pass out from yoga?” Chris asks. “Must be something serious you have planned.”

Zach takes his cup to the sink to rinse it. “Yes. We should discuss it.”

“No need,” Chris says immediately. “I trust you.”

Zach’s fingers hesitate for a fraction of a second in setting down the cup. “That’s very kind of you, Christopher, but –”

“Make it a surprise. Please. I like your surprises.”

Zach turns around, and Chris is relieved to see him smiling. He really couldn’t take another conversation about taking better care of himself, not right now. Today has been a good day, mostly.

“I won’t ruin the surprise for you, but you’ll need to know _some_ things about it.”

“Will it be like that other time?” Chris asks, his heart picking up its pace.

“Not really, no.”

“Oh.”

“You look disappointed.”

Chris looks down, kicks one foot at the other. “It’s just – that night was really intense. I’ve thought about it a lot. I’d like to do something like that again.”

“This will be intense,” Zach assures him. “Which is why we need to talk. I need to know that you’re in an okay place. You’ve been up and down since you arrived. It’s not a great idea to play if you’re feeling too unsettled.”

“I feel good. Now. After today.”

“Because you know, we can leave it a few days if you’re not –”

“No,” Chris says immediately. “I miss it. Jesus, Zach, I _miss_ you hurting me. And I know you miss it too. And – we just had that talk about appropriate self-interest. You need to show some of that too. I know it gets difficult for you if you can’t regularly…”

Zach nods, slowly. “The rules help. But there really is no substitute for inflicting terrible tortures on you.” He smiles, but Chris knows he’s not kidding.

“Is it going to be bad again afterwards?” Chris asks reluctantly. “The drop?” Because last time he was a big crybaby for days afterwards. He still feels a little embarrassed sometimes when he remembers.

“I hope not.” Zach places a hand on his shoulder. “But if it is, we can take care of each other. Like last time.”

Chris doesn’t remember taking much care of Zach last time. But he doesn’t want to think about it too much. “You haven’t made some sneaky doctor’s appointment for me, have you?” he asks.

Zach laughs. “No. I know you don’t like that. But you have to promise me, if I think you should go to the doctor, you’ll go.”

“Okay.”

“And you’ll accept any and all aftercare.”

“Yeah, okay.” Chris pauses, and then says casually, “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to play. After this morning. The lying thing.”

“Actually, after that I thought doing something intense would probably help.”

“Really?” Chris blinks.

“You said you lied to protect yourself. I don’t want you to feel like you have to protect yourself from me.”

“So does that mean I’m not going to try to hit you this time? Or feel –” He hates admitting to this, but there’s no point pretending with Zach. He’s seen it for himself. “Or feel afraid?”

Zach considers. “I don’t know,” he says at last. “I’m not sure. It will hurt, a lot. But that’s the point. You always open up for me when you’re in pain.”

 _Yeah, this is not a normal conversation_ , Chris thinks, and smiles a little. _Oh, Christopher, I love the way you’re so honest when you’re in agony._

“What?” Zach asks, watching him.

“Nothing. Just – I like the way we fit together. I thought people under torture say anything at all to get the pain to stop?”

Zach tilts his head. “You don’t _want_ the pain to stop.”

Chris feels a rush of lust. “Will you get all scary-predatory like you did that other time?” Zach looks uneasy. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean –”

“No, it’s fine,” Zach says quickly. “But I’m not sure.”

“Surprise me,” Chris suggests.

“Actually,” Zach says, “I, uh. I have another surprise for you. I wanted to wait until you felt better to show you. And you do seem to be doing okay right now.”

Chris nods. “I feel a metric fuck-ton better. Although I have to say, that chai is not sitting well in my stomach.”

“Good. And that’s just because you drank it so fast.” _To disguise the taste_ , Chris thinks. “So…” Zach pulls up his top and starts pushing his yoga pants down a little.

“Your surprise for me is your dick?” Chris asks, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not exactly a _surprise_ anymore.”

Zach frowns. “No, you idiot, it’s – this.”

“Aww, you’ve changed your pubic hair grooming habits? For _me_? Zach, you shouldn’t have.”

“For fuck’s sake, will you –”

“Don’t have a meltdown,” Chris grins, coming closer to look where Zach is spreading his fingers, framing his skin. “So what – wait. Zach, is that –”

Zach has a tattoo.

Zach has a freaking _tattoo_.

It’s to the left of his cock, pale enough to be mistaken for a trail of freckles and half-hidden by hair, but Chris can see the pattern. He knows that pattern by heart. When he misses Zach the most, at night in bed alone, when he has to wait too long for sleep – he gets up, stands on the balcony and looks out into space to trace out the pattern of a constellation in the sky. But he’s never told Zach about that.

“Ursa Major,” Chris says softly, staring.

“Surprised?”

“Fucking astonished.” He can’t take his eyes off it. “When did you –”

“After I arrived here in New York.”

“And why didn’t I notice before?”

“Because I didn’t want you to.” Chris thinks about it. The only time he’s really had visual access to this part of Zach’s body since he got here was when he was getting roundly fucked, and – yeah. He was a little preoccupied then.

He finally looks up at Zach, searching his eyes. Zach seems very, very nervous.

“I,” Zach says, and stops, runs a hand through his hair. “I hope you don’t think it’s too. You know.”

“Too what?” Chris asks, with a small half-smile. “Too cute?”

“Too _permanent_.”

Chris strokes his fingers over it and Zach, to his surprise, shudders, and clutches at the bench behind him. “No,” he says. “I think it’s perfect.” He brushes it again, watching Zach’s face as he does. Zach’s mouth _trembles_ , and Chris thinks he’d pay good money to see that sight again. “But this isn’t part of the constellation.” He places his fingertip gently on a larger, darker star, more stylized than the rest and set apart. It almost looks like a compass. “What’s this one?”

Zach swallows. “The North Star.”

Chris frowns a little, thinking.

“It’s – it’s you,” Zach says awkwardly, and Chris raises his eyes to Zach’s in surprise.

“Me?”

“You.”

Chris starts to understand. “You think of me as your North Star?”

Zach nods, tentative.

“Why are you so shy about it?” Chris says. He’s stupidly happy, smiling, his heart jumping.

“I’m not very good at relationship stuff, sometimes,” Zach shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I mean, I’m practically tone-deaf about it. I didn’t know whether this would be _weird_ for you. Or too much. I didn’t know if you’d like it. I didn’t know if you might think it was too soon for…” He flaps his hand around. “Permanent gestures.”

“And you did it anyway,” Chris laughs.

“I had to,” Zach says seriously. “I had to have _something_. Something that would last. While we’re apart.”

Chris wants to make a huge fucking deal out of it, because Zach tattooing himself in memory of Chris? Is something that pierces his heart completely. But he can see that being this open is costing Zach. He’s not very comfortable talking about it, even although he obviously wants Chris to know and understand.

“Zach, after hitting the proverbial ball out of Central Park today, I don’t think you get to claim you’re bad at relationships anymore. Sorry. That was some awesome relationship stuff going down right there. And this? Is like icing on the cake.”

“Really?” Zach smiles.

“Really. So. Did it hurt?” Chris asks casually, running his thumb lightly across the tattoo again. If he had his choice, he’d never stop touching it.

“Yeah. A _lot_.”

“Didn’t turn you on?” Chris grins wickedly.

Zach scrunches his nose up. “No.”

“But you did it just the same.”

“Yes.”

Chris pulls down Zach’s yoga pants further, starts to kneel down.

“Wait, we shouldn’t –”

“Yes, we should,” Chris says firmly. “Let me.” He’s already on his knees and kissing each star in Zach’s constellation. “I’ve been waiting way too long for this,” Chris tells him. “And so have you. And if we wait any longer, I will have forgotten every single thing I know about sucking your cock just the way you like it. So _let me_.”

“Okay, okay,” Zach gasps, half-laughing. “Very convincing argument. I was just going to say, not do it right here, but – _holy hell okay_.” Chris smiles around Zach’s dick, which is rapidly coming to full hardness in his mouth.

Zach grabs a handful of his hair, and Chris can hear his breathing start to come faster. “Good,” he says, half to himself. “You’re so good, Christopher.” Chris doesn’t bother with protracted teasing; he wants to taste Zach right _now_ , and the need is almost too much. Every time he opens his eyes he sees Zach’s stars, and after a few minutes he’s seeing them with his eyes closed too.

Zach comes hard, pulling at his hair and making incredible noises, and Chris feels so proud of himself, like he just won the Academy Award for Best Blow Job in a Kitchen Setting.

“You – _wow_ ,” Zach is gasping, shaking his head a little. “Where in the hell did that come from?”

“Popsicles.” Chris stands up, dusting off the knees of his jeans.

“ _What_?”

“Yeah. Popsicles. Good for practice.” He smiles at Zach’s face. “Whatever works, right?”

“I need to buy some popsicles,” Zach mutters.

  
***

  
Chris gets his game-face on and gives himself a mental pep-talk in the bathroom mirror about how he’s a fucking Hollywood star, and will shine like the goddamn sun at this event. “And no getting mad at photographers,” he says sternly to his reflection. “Just doing their job, just doing their job.”

The night passes at a torturously slow speed, but the anticipation makes him feel buzzed. Zach is firmly in his element, talking with people he’s just met like he’s known them for years. They try not to glance at each other too much, because every time they do, the people around them seem to notice something and look again, a little closer. When they put their arms around each other for a photograph, Chris has to remind his hands not to wander. They both stare at the camera, trying to look relaxed.

“This is getting very difficult,” Zach says to him in an undertone. “Let’s go soon.”

“Definitely.”

In the cab back to Zach’s place they sit as far away as possible from each other, staring out the windows, but by the time the car pulls up, they are holding hands, twisting fingers and squeezing tight. Chris gives the driver a bill, praying it’s enough, gabbles, “Keep the change,” and they’re finally free to run up the stairs and into blessed privacy.

Zach shoves him up against the wall, hard, as soon as they’re inside, and Chris grabs at him, pulling him harder into an already-hard kiss. But Zach breaks away quickly, puts his hand over his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says to himself. “Stop. Or you’ll never even make it to the bedroom.” Chris laughs, delighted. “Hold back a little,” Zach mutters.

“Don’t hold back,” Chris says immediately, and Zach grabs him by the shoulders, his fingers digging in. Chris gasps at the pain. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop,” Zach says, his teeth clenched. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Chris feels reckless. “No. I don’t want to stop. Come on, Zach. Come and play.”

Zach grabs at his wrists and drags him towards the bedroom, pushes him almost roughly into the room. He stops in the doorway, and Chris watches as he composes himself.

“Your words, Christopher.”

“Too drastic. Enterprise,” Chris says automatically.

“Try not to forget them this time,” Zach says softly, and Chris feels a frisson of fear run down his spine. “Because as much as I’d like to be able to read your mind, I can’t. I can only guess.”

“I know,” Chris says. But privately he thinks that Zach is very good at guessing that kind of thing.

“Do you remember when you first came up with the Honesty Policy?” Zach asks as Chris undresses.

“Yes,” Chris says, although he doesn’t really want to talk about the Honesty Policy, not right now.

“It was because you thought I wasn’t giving straight answers about things.”

“And you still don’t,” Chris points out. Zach laughs, a little wild.

“I’m better now, though. Right?”

“ _Getting_ better,” Chris allows.

“On the bed. Face up.” As soon as he’s settled, Zach jumps on top of him, still in his jeans and t-shirt, sitting on Chris’s thighs so that he can’t move.

“So what are we doing?” Chris asks, suddenly a little afraid. Zach’s eyes are wide and intense, and he’s staring at Chris like he’s not quite seeing him.

“I felt like doing a little finger painting.” Zach gives his sharp bedroom smile, and Chris swallows.

He has no idea at all what Zach means. And there are no toys, no props anywhere in easy reach.

“I think it’s one of my favorite things between us, the Honesty Policy,” Zach tells him, and starts to run his hands over Chris’s chest, a little harder than Chris was expecting. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable, just – strange. Strange because it doesn’t hurt.

“One of your favorite things,” Chris repeats. “Why?”

“Because it means I get to see right through you, whenever I want. I can see what’s going on inside you with just two words. It’s like a magic trick.” Zach pauses. “I can feel your heart beating, Christopher. Nice and steady. Fast.”

“Mm.”

“How is this feeling?”

“Suspiciously good. Like a massage.”

Zach nods, tweaks at his nipples. “This will be a little bit like a magic trick, too, when I finish.”

Chris shifts a little underneath him, wondering if he should ask – but he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why?”

“Because this will allow me to see what’s inside you as well,” Zach says. His fingers are sliding insistently between Chris’s ribs, counting them out, and it’s beginning to ache. He’s not pushing any harder, but the repetitive action is making Chris’s skin tingle.

“What do you mean?” Chris asks slowly.

“You’ll have to wait and see. Tell me about your fantasies, Christopher. Talk to me.” He’s pressing his fingers in with more force now. It’s not comfortable. “This will take a while, so we might as well have some conversation.”

It _does_ take a while. Chris loses sense of time. He talks a lot in the beginning, but at some point he trails off into silence, listening to Zach breathe steadily in and out, as the pressure builds. The sensation in his body has built from pleasant to strange to legitimately painful, and Zach’s fingers feel like iron rods grinding into him.

“Would you like to know what I’m doing?” Zach asks quietly, and Chris nods slowly, too slowly, like they’re underwater. He’s vaguely aware of his dick, hard and rubbing into the denim of Zach’s jeans. “By putting intense pressure on your skin like this, I can mark it up. You’ll be all colorful.”

 _Like rainbows. Like flowers. Tropical birds and plants._ Chris is starting to feel that familiar buzz in his head.

“And after I’m done, I’ll be able to hurt you just by touching you. Imagine that, Christopher. Just one gentle touch and you’ll be begging me to stop.”

Zach uses his knuckles to drag hard between his ribs, making Chris gasp. It’s less tender over his pectoral muscles at first, but not for long, as Zach crushes into them with determination. It seems to go on for a long, long time; the pain is building up, winding tighter with each pass Zach makes over his chest.

His eyes begin to sting with tears, and he can feel Zach watching his face closely. “It hurts,” Chris says, but his voice sounds like someone else’s. Like it’s coming from underwater.

“Yes.” Zach stops for a moment and places both palms on Chris’s chest, leaning lightly forward until Chris hisses. A sharp, aching pain radiates through him.

“Are you going to cry for me?” Zach asks. Chris presses his lips together in refusal, and Zach laughs. “So stubborn. I like that about you. Makes it better when you break.” He leans forward again gently and Chris, to his own annoyance, cries out.

He clenches his teeth together, panting, as Zach presses down again. “It _hurts_ ,” he says again. “Zach, it hurts, please…”

“Please what, Christopher? Please hurt you more?” Zach runs his knuckles, hard, right down Chris’s sternum, making him buck up.

“No! Please – aren’t you finished yet?”

“I thought you liked the pain. You _asked_ me for the pain.”

“This is – not like the other pains.”

“No,” Zach agrees. “It’s not. It’s different. You’re becoming quite the connoisseur. It’s impressive.”

Chris can feel sweat beading on his forehead and his legs are starting to twitch. It’s a bone-deep throb that burns and stings at the same time, like a toothache. It’s not like any pain Zach has imparted to him before, and he can feel himself wanting to go – to slip into subspace and let the sensations wash over him.

He gasps as Zach presses him again. He squeezes his eyes shut, but it’s too late to stop one turncoat teardrop from escaping, running down his temple. Zach leans forward immediately and Chris feels his lips tracing the wet path down into his hairline. His mind is getting cloudy, fogged up.

“I knew you’d cry,” Zach murmurs, his mouth pressed lightly next to Chris’s eye. “Don’t speak now, Christopher. You just let go and float away, up into the stars. I know you want to.”

And as Zach says it, Chris can see them, the stars getting closer and brighter and each drag of hard, hot knuckles across his skin lights up with a trail of sparks, like little comets racing across his flesh. He can hear Zach telling him stories, tales about Ursa Major, the Great Bear, who swings endlessly around Polaris. And the guardians clustered around the North Star, keeping watch in case the Icy Bear tries to reach out and catch it.

 _Catch me_ , Chris tries to say. _Take me, take whatever you want_. There are stars exploding all around him.

“Christopher. Come down now. Come back a little.”

Zach is lying next to him now, still dressed, leaning up on his elbow and watching his face.

“Hi,” Zach says. “You back?”

“Sort of,” someone says, and then Chris realizes it’s him; his mouth is moving and sounds are coming out and they actually make sense. “I saw stars.”

Zach kisses his forehead, smiling. “I want you to come for me now. Touch yourself.”

“Me?” Chris feels a distant wave of disappointment.

“You. Because I’m going to be touching this.” Zach presses his palm into Chris’s chest and he feels pain ripple out through his body.

“Ouch.”

“That’s why I want you to touch yourself. It’ll help you deal with the pain. I want to watch you trying to process the sensations, and I want you to come while I hurt you. Will you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Chris says, and dutifully begins jacking his cock. Zach, somehow, has pre-lubed it, and it’s comforting and feels good, no _great_ , until – “ _Ouch_!”

“Good boy,” Zach whispers in his ear. He rubs again, and Chris wriggles slightly away from him. “Come on. Don’t stop.”

Zach is right. The pleasure helps with the pain, which comes in increasing surges as Zach presses lightly at his chest. But by the time he reaches orgasm, Chris can feel his eyes streaming with tears and he doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not crying, not this time. Just before Chris starts shooting up his stomach, Zach leans over and bites him, hard, right over his heart, and Chris _screams_ as bliss and agony collide in his body.

When he gets his head back together, Zach is wiping away all the come and sweat from his body, stopping to kiss at his chest now and then. Even the softest kiss is excruciating, but as long as it’s not being touched, his chest only aches a little. Zach has to get another cloth to clean up Chris’s face, covered in wet and drying tears, his eyes sore and heavy.

“What are you doing? Lie down,” Zach says, pushing him gently back by the shoulders when Chris tries to stand up.

“I want to see,” Chris says stubbornly.

“You need to rest for a bit.”

“I want to see.”

Zach hesitates, and then holds out his hand. “It might be a bit of a shock, so hang on to me.”

He helps him through to the bathroom, and turns on the light. Chris blinks, his eyes adjusting to the light, and then stares at himself. His chest is a mass of colors, mostly red and pink, but there are shades of purple, blue and black starting to come through. Zach holds him tightly when he drops forward a little. Zach was right. Seeing his body covered with a massive contusion is confronting.

“Back to bed,” Zach says.

“No, wait.” Because Chris is starting to see a pattern forming. Stripes of darker flesh contrasting against pale – and the bite mark blooming like an unnatural flower. “Inside,” he says quietly. “It’s me. Inside.” It’s abstract, but the longer he looks the more he understands. Zach has painted his ribcage and heart into his skin.

“Yes. But it’s not finished yet.”

“There’s more?”

“Tomorrow. There will be more. And then I’ll be able to see inside you just by looking at you.” There’s a flash of an expression over his face and Chris catches it in the mirror. He’s only seen it once before – that cold, predatory look that scared the hell out him last time they did something like this. Something intense.

Chris suddenly feels nauseous. “I don’t think I can take any more,” he says. “Zach, I think I’m gonna puke.” He grabs at the counter top, breathing heavily, and Zach immediately looks concerned, but calm.

“If you need to throw up, don’t fight it. And of course we’ll stop if you want. We don’t have to do any more.”

Chris turns on the water and splashes his face with it, welcoming the cold. His stomach settles, and his breathing begins to slow again.

“I want you to take a painkiller,” Zach says. “So you can sleep okay. You should be alright on your back, but if you turn over – it will hurt.”

Chris nods. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep if his chest is tormenting him all night. “What about the bruises?” Zach usually has a billion different creams and lotions and heat pads and icepacks.

“No,” Zach says, winding his fingers into Chris’s hair. “I want them there. They’ll develop more during the night, even if we don’t do anything else.”

Chris is afraid to look directly at Zach, so he looks at him in the mirror instead. “What did you want to do tomorrow?”

“We can talk about tomorrow, tomorrow,” Zach says. “Bed. I’ll bring you a painkiller.”

After he’s tucked up in bed and has taken his medication and let some chocolate dissolve on his tongue, Chris starts shaking. Zach spoons him carefully, kissing the back of his neck and avoiding his chest.

“Perhaps we should have talked it through more,” he says, and his tone is completely neutral. “Not all surprises are nice.”

“It’s okay,” Chris whispers. “Just…weird.” He pulls Zach’s arm tighter around him, wincing. “You didn’t come.”

“I came before. With your mad popsicle skills.”

Chris huffs a small laugh.

“You’re freaking out.”

“A little. Yeah.” It’s been so long since Zach has let out his sadistic tendencies so mercilessly – Chris had forgotten what it was like. Or pushed it out of his mind.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I just need…” But he has no idea what he needs, not right now.

“Think about the stars,” Zach suggests. “Think about being James T. Kirk traveling out among the stars.”

“Tell me those stories again,” Chris begs. “The ones you were telling me when you – before. When I was under.”

And so Zach starts talking quietly, retelling myths and legends, and Chris imagines being up in the stars, immersed in the silence and darkness and beauty, and drifts into sleep.

He dreams about the Great Bear standing up in the sky, shaking out his limbs from a billion years of hibernation. The Bear stretches out a giant paw towards Polaris, nails red with blood. When he traps the North Star, he pulls it into an embrace, cradling it gently against his heart.


End file.
